In the North teaching follows schooling almost as a matter of course. In 1848 Angeline Stickney began to teach the district school in Heath Hollow, near Rodman, for a dollar and a quarter a week and board. The same year she taught also at Pleasant Valley, near Cape Vincent, whither Edwin Ingalls had moved. Angeline boarded with her sister and spun her wool. Would that some artist had painted this nineteenth century Priscilla at the spinning-wheel! For the next nine years, that is, until a year after her marriage, she was alternately teacher and pupil. In the winter of 1849-50 she tutored in the family of Elder Bright, who six years later, in Wisconsin, performed her marriage ceremony. In the winter of 1850-51 she attended the seminary at Rodman, together with her sister Ruth.

An excellent teacher always, she won the respect and affection of her pupils. After her death a sturdy farmer of Rodman told me, with great feeling, how much he liked the patient teacher. He was a dull boy, and found many perplexities in arithmetic, which Miss Stickney carefully explained. And so she became the boy’s ideal woman. Very seldom did she have to resort to punishment, but when punishment was necessary she did not flinch. The same might be said of her in the rearing of her four sons. Her gentleness, united to a resolute will and thorough goodness of heart, made obedience to her word an acknowledged and sacred duty.

The following fragment of a letter, written after she had begun her college course at McGrawville, gives a glimpse of her at this period:

... it is half past eight A.M. there is one small scholar here. I have had but fourteen scholars yet, but expect more next week. Sister Ruth teaches in the district adjoining this. I see her often, have been teaching two weeks. I do not have a very good opportunity for studying, or reciting. There is a gentleman living about a mile and a half from me to whom I suppose I might recite, but the road is bad and so I have to content myself without a teacher, and I fear I shall not make much progress in my studies this winter. Saturday Dec 4th.... I do not teach to-day, so I started off in the rain this morning to come and see Sister Ruth. It is about a mile and a half across through swamp and woods, but I had a very fine walk after all. I had to climb a hill on the way, that may well vie in height with the hills of McGrawville, and the prospect from its summit is the finest I ever saw. Sister saw me coming and came running to meet me and now we are sitting side by side in her school room with none to molest us.... I board around the district.... Oh! how I long for a quiet little room, where I might write and study....

Let me add here an extract from a brief diary kept in 1851, which illustrates a phase of her character hardly noticed thus far. She was, like the best young women of her day and generation, intensely religious—even morbidly so, perhaps. But as sincerity is the saving grace of all religions, we may forgive her maidenly effusion:

Monday June 2 David came and brought me down to school to-day. When I came to dinner found uncle Cook at Mr. Moffatts. Think I shall attend prayer meeting this evening. I love these prayer meetings. Mr. Spear always there with something beautiful and instructive to say. And the Savior always there to bless us, and to strengthen us. And I feel I am blessed and profited every time that I attend. Tuesday June 3rd Feel sad this evening, have evening, have a hard headache, pain in the chest, and cough some. Think Consumption’s meagre hand is feeling for my heart strings. Oh that I may be spared a little longer, though unworthy of life on earth and how much more unfit to live in Heaven. Oh Heavenly Father wash me clean in the blood of thy precious son, and fit me for life, or death. I have desired to get for me a name that would not be forgotten, when my body was moldered into dust. Vain desire! better to have a name in the Lamb’s Book of Life. Earth may forget me, but Oh my Savior! do not Thou forget me and I shall be satisfied. Wednesday June 4th I am sitting now by my chamber window, have been gazing on the beautiful clouds of crimson and purple, that are floating in the bright west. How beautiful is our world now in this sweet month, beautiful flowers beautiful forests, beautiful fields, beautiful birds, and murmuring brooks and rainbows and clouds and then again the clear blue sky without clouds or rainbows, or stars, smiling in its own calm loveliness Oh yes! this Earth is beautiful, and so exquisitely beautiful that I sometimes feel that there is in it enough of beauty to feast my eyes forever. Do not feel quite so badly this evening as I did last, yet I by no means feel well.